


Bitty's Vignettes

by JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle



Series: Bitty Bakes It Off [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, gbbo au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22020244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle/pseuds/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle
Summary: Bitty's POV on events inBitty Bakes It Off.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Series: Bitty Bakes It Off [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571029
Comments: 16
Kudos: 125





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> See [Bitty Bakes It Off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21386986/chapters/50947471%22) for recipes, etc.

Bitty vignettes

Episode 1:

Bitty looked around the tent at his fellow contestants, all of them a least a couple of years older than him.

That shouldn’t matter, though. Not to Bitty, who’d been baking since before he could properly talk. Really, he knew his way around a kitchen — and a KitchenAid stand mixer — better than just about anyone.

But so did these people, if they were chosen to participate in the bake-off. Bitty hadn’t even planned to apply until he got that text from Johnson, saying that the show was suddenly short a baker, and the spot was his if he could prove his baking chops to the judges.

Sure, it was a big commitment, especially with the taping falling right at the end of the spring semester of his junior year, but it didn’t conflict with hockey season, and just appearing on the show — let alone winning — would probably help him land a job after graduation.

As long as he didn’t make a fool of himself the first weekend.

Bitty looked at his bench, already stocked with the ingredients for his tiramisu Swiss roll.

“I can do this,” he told himself. “It doesn’t matter that I’m the last one they picked. I am an award-winning baker. I deserve to be here.”

He looked up and saw one of the cameramen staring at him, and not, he thought, in a good way. The guy — Bitty thought he was called Jack — must have heard his little pep talk.

Bitty wouldn’t have minded just staring at Jack for a while, or he wouldn’t have if Jack stopped glaring at him. Jack was tall and built and had the most amazing eyes. Which still looked like they were judging him.

Speaking of judges … Oh, lordy, Alice Atley and Rob Hall were in the tent. Alice was just as put-together and businesslike as he expected from watching her, and Rob was a little more casual, maybe friendlier, but just as focused on quality when it came to baked goods.

Why couldn’t they start with pie? Then Bitty wouldn’t have to worry about making it long enough to impress the judges with his real signature dish.

Then he was off, making the Swiss roll, which didn’t get the best comments but was far from the worst. Lunch was with Christopher Chow, who was just about the sweetest-tempered person Bitty had ever met; Caitlin Farmer, who seemed to be hitting all the right notes for the judges; and Will Poindexter, a laconic redhead from Maine who was looking forward to breads.

No matter what, Bitty thought, he would leave this experience with new baking techniques and skills, and probably at least a few new friends. Who could argue with that?

Atley’s cherry cake in the technical turned out to be simple enough to make, but with enough tricky bits to help the judges make sense of which bakers were most qualified.

“I think I’m middle of the pack, which, given who I’m up against, is really very good, especially since cakes aren’t really my specialty,” Bitty said in the post-challenge interview with Jack. “I’m just hoping to stick around as long as I can, I guess, and maybe learn some things.”

Jack didn’t give him any kind of feedback — not a nod or even a grunt — just turned the camera off and walked away.

Well. One more day in the tent at least, and probably more. Bitty better brush up on what he was doing tomorrow. Then he had exams to study for.

Sunday was much warmer, and Bitty was feeling like a genius for choosing not to work with chocolate today.

He hoped his mini lemon drizzle cakes made the judges think bright, spring-like thoughts. At least the recipe was simple enough, very similar to cakes he had made in the past.

When he noticed Jack pointing his camera at him stirring the curd, he started narrating, just like he would have on his vlog. Jack stayed longer on him than he did on most of the bakers, not leaving until Bitty came to a natural pause.

This time, Jack gave him a nod before moving on.

At the end of the day, Caitlin Farmer was named star baker, to no one’s surprise. But Bitty boarded the bus back to Samwell feeling more confident than he was when he arrived. 

His lemon cakes had gone over well, he thought, and he didn’t think he’d be among the first to leave the tent. Unfortunately, he was nowhere near as confident about the statistics exam he had in the morning.

* * *

Episode 2

Bitty arrived for the second weekend determined to make a good impression. His biscotti recipe was pretty good, he thought, and the apricots might even make it stand out. 

Tomorrow’s showstopper would be the maple shortbread hockey sticks in the gingerbread zamboni. The hockey sticks he could make in his sleep — he’d made them by the hundreds for parties at the Haus — which meant he had plenty of time to make the Zamboni look good.

He wished he’d been able to find out whether Hall or Atreus liked hockey; for all of his research (yes, he was pretty sure he’d read everything posted online and on every social media platform about the bake off, reputable source or not) he hadn’t seen a word about it. It should be fine as long as neither of them hated hockey. Oh, God, what if they hated hockey?

But first he had to get through the biscotti.

Once he had the loaves in his oven, he tried catching Jack’s attention. It couldn’t hurt to commiserate over the heat in the tent, right? And maybe then Jack would stop glaring at him.

But Jack literally turned his back when Bitty smiled. Well then. 

Bitty turned to Chowder.

“I don’t even like biscotti,” Bittle said. “Too hard. And I had to make about two hundred of them this week just to make sure I could do it right. Good thing my team’s not fussy. They’ll eat anything.”

“They’re all right,” Chowder said. “I guess. What kind of a team are you on?”

“Hockey,” Bittle said.

It turned out Chowder was a huge fan of his hometown San Jose Sharks, and he and Bitty chatted through the rest of the challenge. 

He was most concerned about the technical. They could make almost anything small and call it a biscuit, and Bitty had no idea what they would ask for.

Neither judges advising patience nor Holster’s announcement that they would be making something called ‘arlettes’ helped, but once Bitty got a look at the recipe, and the slab of butter on his bench, he nearly swooned in relief.

“This is puff pastry,” he said to himself. “This I can do.”

He felt his face heat when he noticed Jack’s camera on him. Just what he needed, letting Jack see he’d been doubting himself. 

Even knowing what to do, Bitty found the pastry to be a challenge with the heat in the tent. He had to chill his dough briefly after every turn rather than every other turn as he would have done at home.

Other bakers started following his example, he noticed. Especially Chowder, who didn’t seem to have much experience with pastry at all.

The only weird thing was how much Jack was looking at him. Every time he looked up, if Jack wasn’t busy recording another baker, he was looking at Bitty like he was some kind of … something that Jack couldn’t figure out.

Bitty made sure the other bakers could see what he was doing; he couldn’t expect everybody to have his experience with pastry, after all, and if they were following his example, it should still be to his advantage. If the recipe called for a skill he had performed a hundred times, he should do it better than someone just trying it out.

He was pleased, but not really surprised, to get top marks in the technical.

The showstopper went according to plan the next day, but it wasn’t enough to win him star baker. That was okay, Bitty thought, especially since Will had created his own device to make a round shortbread box. There was no way Bitty could do anything like that. He thought he was probably middle of the pack, which was safe enough. For now at least.

He had just expressed that sentiment to Jack, or to Jack’s camera, when Shitty appeared at his side.

“Did you know Jack here played hockey, too?” Shitty asked.

“Did you?” Bitty said. Maye this coud break the ice (no pun intended) between them.

Jack nodded.

“I’ll have to make sure you get some of my cookies,” Bitty said.

“That’s not necessary,” Jack rebuffed.

Maybe not.

“Okay, then,” Bitty said.

Seriously, what crawled into his (admittedly marvellous) ass and died?

* * *

Episode 3

Bread week. Truth be told, Bitty had been kind of dreading this. He knew when he agreed to come on the show that bread was likely to come up early in the season, and here it was, just after cake and biscuits.

But bread wasn’t something he made very often. There just wasn’t time for something that had to be left to rise for long periods.

He had practiced his pane bianco several times, to the great pleasure of his Haus-mates, and he was fairly certain that while it wouldn’t win the day, it also wouldn’t get him dismissed from the tent.

He tried to ignore Jack (why did he have to be so attractive anyway?), instead watching his fellow bakers. Will was clearly a breadmaker, and Cait had probably made more than a few kinds of bread before. Chowder was so enthusiastic that it was hard to tell how much actual experience he had. Another baker, Derek, didn’t seem as good on technical skills, but he came up with inspired flavor combinations. He could be a dark horse.

If Will didn’t kill him first.

The signature ended up much the way Bitty expected, with positive but not superlative notes for him.

Bitty amused himself by watching Chowder try to flirt with Cait. He really wasn’ very smooth, but Cait seemed to enjoy it anyway. It was nice, really, when nice people liked each other.

Then it was time for the technical: four perfect baguettes. Bitty kind of knew what a baguette should look like and taste like, but he’d never made one. And he knew exactly what the judges were doing here. There would be no kiding behind decorations or stylistic choices; they would either have good baguettes or they wouldn’t.

Fortunately, Bitty had enough experience with simple yeast breads to know how to start. He was just starting to slide his loaves into the oven to bake when he caught sight of Will adding a pan of water to the bottom of the oven.

Bitty thought about it and vaguely remembered an old Julia Child episode where she’d sprayed the loaves with water before baking, but there was no spray bottle in the equipment allotted for the technical bake. Maybe Will’s method would work the same way? He hurriedly filled a pan from the tal and added it to the oven.

He looked up to see Jack staring at him once again, but this time it was a death glare. What had he done now?

His baguettes ended up third, which was great, really, especially when Atley said the top three were all very good. Hardly any different from second.

“I guess I’ve been doing okay,” Bittle told Jack’s camera. “But I think I can do better.”

As he turned his camera off, Jack said, “I saw what you did.”

Huh?

“Saw what?”

“With the water,” Jack said. “You only did it because Will did.”

“Okay,” Bitty said. “What if I did? Part of the competition is learning from each other. And I had to take the shot that he was right.”

“It was a lucky shot,” Jack said.

Right. Of course it was. But it worked. Fuck. 

Bitty didn’t know why Jack didn’t like him (because he was from the South? because he was kinda obviously gay? because he’d almost had a crush on Jack and Jack could see inside his empty head and knew that?), but the idea of spending five hours sculpting a cornucopia and its contents out of bread dough under his watchful glare tomorrow seemed just too much. Bitty wished he could find a rink, put his earbuds in and just skate and not think for a while. 

The next morning, Jack wasn’t in his usual spot. He’d moved closer to the front, and Johnson was in his usual place.

Johnson was fine, really. Bitty had never known him well — he didn’t think anyone had — but he had a knack for turning up just when he was needed. 

Bitty was able to forget he was there during the hours of kneading and proving and molding and baking and assembling.

When he did sneak a peak at Jack, he looked as grumpy as ever, this time seemingly annoyed at the way Derek and Will seemed to grate on each other. Maybe it wasn’t just Bitty?

Whatever. By the end of the day, he was exhausted and he couldn’t wait to go back to Samwell. 

* * *

Episode 4

Bitty was looking forward to a relatively Jack-free weekend. Or maybe it was a weekend where he could look at Jack, but Jack would be so busy with his own section of the tent that e couldn’t focus on Bitty.

Bitty would be busy too, of course, but it was tart week, and Bitty planned to take full advantage. His apple-lavender tarte Tatin had just the right hint of lavender cutting the sweetness of the carmelized apples. His showstopper was a masterpiece — or would be, if it came together right. Which would be so much easier without Jack breathing down his neck.

Only when he got to the tent, he found that his bench had moved into the middle section. Smack dab next where Jack was holding his camera.

Bitty looked away, noting Ollie next to him and Wicks behind him, then carefully keeping his gaze straight ahead, on Ransom and Holster preparing to announce the challenge.

Once they began, Bitty noticed Jack training his lens on him, but Jack didn’t ask him any questions before moving on. Then Rob Hall came and questioned his decision to use lavender, and Bitty might have second-guessed himself if it wasn’t already too late to do anything about it.

He felt vindicated at the end, when Alice Atley said it added the perfect note of sophistication. There was no chance to gloat, though, especially since Shitty steered him away from Jack for the post-challenge interview. Had Shitty and the production staff picked up on the friction between him and Jack? Dang.

The technical, of course, could have been almost anything. But the treacle tart recipe Rob Hall assigned was first cousin to the chess pie Bitty had been making since he was a kid, and, wonder of wonders, it called for a lattice. For the first time in the competition, Bitty was almost relaxed.

Ransom spent some time with Bitty during the bake, giving him a chance to explain how he felt like he knew just what to do. 

When he began weaving the lattice, he cast a glance over his shoulder at Jack, then angled his body so as not to block the view of the other bakers. Some of them had clearly never given a thought to how to weave pie dough, and they weren’t going to overtake Bitty on this challenge just by watching him, but maybe they wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed either.

The next morning, Bitty was wishing he didn’t feel overwhelmed. The pile of ingredients on his bench towered over the other bakers’ ingredients, and Bitty knew printed-out recipe had pages and pages of instruction.

His planned bake — a rose and lychee and raspberry tart, featuring rose mascarpone creme, macaroons and carmelized almonds — definitely met the assignment of a large tart that would star in a bakery shop window, but it had so many components he’d only managed to bake it all the way through once.

“Looks like you’ve got quite the job ahead of you,” Jack said, nodding at Bitty’s bench. “Sure you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew?”

What was that supposed to mean? Bitty stiffened and said, ““This is the showstopper. It wouldn’t do to go for something easy.”

Then he turned back to his pages of notes.

As soon as the bake started, Bitty dove in, whirling from one task to the next, in a carefully choreographed sequence that got interrupted as soon as Alice Atley stopped with Tater in tow as he coated his almonds in caramel and explained his plan.

“Where do the almonds come in?” Alice asked.

“Some of them will be pushed into the crust — it’s a sweet rosewater crust — and under the lychee creme pat,” Bitty said. “On top of that will be raspberries glazed with jam, garnished with raspberry and rose mascarpone creme and macaroons, with the carmelized almonds on top.”

“So you’re making a crust, creme patissiere and creme mascarpone, jam, macaroons and caramelized almonds, all as components?” Alice asked doubtfully.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bitty said, hoping he sounded confident.

“Are you sure you’re going to finish?”

“I’m sure gonna try, ma’am,” Bitty said.

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” she said.

Bitty honestly didn’t have the time to pay attention to what the other bakers were doing. He even lost track of Jack as he hurried through his dozens of steps. He was so focused it even seemed like the tent was quieter than usual as he painted each raspberry with jam and sprinkled the crushed caramelized almonds over the top.

He was rewarded with what might have been the most positive comments of the season, with Rob Hall saying it was what a showstopper should look like. 

Being named star baker — well, it was a dream come true, but after today, he thought he deserved it.

Bitty was just getting ready to board the shuttle back to the hotel when Jack stopped him.

“Good job today,” Jack said. “You worked hard.”

No. Really?

“Thanks?” Bitty said. “I didn’t think you were supposed to be judging me.”

* * *

Episode 5

Self-saucing puddings? As far as Bitty was concerned, he was making individual chocolate upside-down cakes with peanut butter. Most of the other bakers looked like they were doing similar techniques, although their flavors varied.

At least Jack was nowhere close. Neither was Johnson, who seemed to have disappeared. Now Bitty was in front, nearest Marty, who gave off a calm, fatherly sort of vibe.

Bitty could live with that.

The self-saucing puddings — or chocolate-peanut butter fondants, as Bitty called them for the show — went well enough, Bitty supposed. It seemed like most of the bakers were just trying to get through the day. Tomorrow’s baked Alaska — on a day forecast to hit 85 degrees — was definitely going to be the focus of the weekend.

The technical turned out to be Rob Hall’s recipe for tiramisu cake. Bitty thought his was good, but not great. But really, he thought, several bakers did well enough in terms of creating a recognizable tiramisu cake. It was the kind of challenge where it was hard to excel; the cake could be good enough, or a disaster.

Bitty’s was good enough.

After a full day in the tent, Bitty was looking forward to the evening. He’d called around and found a local ice rink where could skate in the evening. He thought time on the ice would do more for his focus than obsessing over whether his ice cream would freeze the next day.

He was surprised to find himself alone on the ice. The manager said no one usually showed up on Saturdays in the summer, except maybe one other guy who didn’t come until later.

“Feel free,” the guy said. “I’m gonna grab some dinner. I’ll be back later to lock up.”

Even better. Bitty put his earbuds in, laced up his figure skates, and started to warm up. After nearly an hour, he was warm and loose and honestly kind of enjoying the misty effect from the ice in the summer humidity.

He knew better than to jump when he was alone, but a toe loop couldn’t hurt. He’d been doing toe loops since he was ten. He could definitely do a double at least.

Until he couldn’t. He knew he didn’t have his landing foot in position, but it was still a shock to come down on the rough surface on his knee, then his hip. Crap.

He was still on the ice, taking inventory and making sure everything still worked, when he realized he wasn’t alone after all.

There was someone rushing toward him. Bitty pulled his earbuds out to hear a familiar voice.

“Seriously, are you okay? Do you need help?”

“Jack? What are you doing here?”“I came to skate,” Jack said. “Clear my head, cool off. Can you stand up?”

Bitty focused on the way his hips and knees and ankles felt. He’d be bruised in more than his ego, no doubt, but all the joints still seemed to be working.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bitty said, pushing up to his feet and looking down at himself. “Ripped my pants.”

“Not just your pants,” Jack said. “I have a first aid kit in my car.”

No, just no, Bitty thought. First he had to fall in front of the hot guy who already didn’t like him, and now the guy was offering to take care of him like he was a little boy crying over a scraped knee. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bitty said. “ I can make it back to the hotel. Let me get my skates off and I’ll be out of your way.”

Jack didn’t look convinced.

“You’re not in my way,” Jack said.

Right.

“You said you came to clear your head,” Bitty said. “Pretty sure you wanted to be alone.”

Jack shrugged.

“I usually am here. At least let me give you a Band-Aid.”

Standing here wasn’t doing either of them — or Bitty’s knee or bruised hip — any good.

“Fine,” Bitty said with a sigh, and lowered himself to the bench to take off his skates and put on slides.

“I didn’t know you figure skated,” Jack said as Bitty led the way outside. 

“You said you played hockey.”

“I figure skated first,” Bitty said. “Not sure I can say I do anymore, after that.”

“Come on, you were good,” Jack said. “Until you fell.”

Yeah, that part. As if Bitty needed to be reminded. But Jack said he was good before … How long had he been watching?

“You must have fallen a lot before,” Jack said reasonably. “When you were learning. Just because you fell doesn’t mean you can’t do it.”

Jack stopped next do a dark grey SUV and unlocked the door with a keyfob. He gestured to Bitty to sit on the seat while he rummaged in the glovebox for the first aid kit.

He held out a Band-Aid. “Here.”

At least he wasn’t trying to put it on for Bitty, with a kiss to make it better. “Thanks,” Bitty said. “For the Band-Aid.”

Jack threw his skates in the back seat.

“Get in the car,” he said. “I’ll take you back to your hotel. Shitty and Lardo would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

Bitty wanted to tell him, no, he’d order a rideshare, but he knew it wouldn’t work and he didn’t want to have to give in again.

“Well, if you insist,” he finally said.

The next morning, Bitty ached all over, like he’d played a really physical hockey game the night before. Jack was right; he had fallen plenty of times when he was learning. But he never felt like this the next morning when he was ten years old. And he had a long, hot day ahead.

Shitty had turned up at his door twenty minutes after Jack dropped him off last night too make sure he was well enough to continue (like a little fall would stop him) and Ms. Duan had checked in with him as soon as he arrived at the farm. He supposed they wanted to make sure he would look all right on television.

Jack approached him as soon as he entered the tent.

“You okay?” Jack asked.

“I have to make a baked Alaska in a tent on an 85-degree day,” Bitty said. “But other than that, I’m fine. Embarrassed. But thanks, if I didn’t say it last night.”

“You did say it,” Jack said. “But you’re welcome.”

Then they were off, making ice cream and meringue and trying not to present a gloppy mess.

Bitty had to concentrate on not limping as he moved between his bench and the freezer, but nobody seemed to pay much attention to him. The early drama was the revelation that one of the freezers wasn’t working. Then, after Derek’s ice cream didn’t freeze — which wasn’t helped by Wicks forgetting to put it back in the freezer — everyone was focused on that.

Bitty felt terrible for Derek, but also for Wicks, because he was pretty sure the short time Derek’s ice cream spent outside the freezer wasn’t enough to make the difference between liquid and solid.

Bitty just thanked his lucky stars that his pistachio ice cream stayed frozen, although he supposed it wouldn’t have mattered. With Derek binning his ice cream, no one else was leaving the tent, even though Wicks probably would have taken his place if he could.

“I’m just glad today is over,” he told Marty’s camera.


	2. Episodes 6-10

Episode 6: Chocolate 

All the stiffness was gone from Bitty's knee and hip when he took his place in the tent the following Saturday. That was good, because he had plenty to do this morning. The Ding Dong cake he'd based his recipe on called for hours of chilling in a fridge; he was pretty sure he'd come up with acceptable workarounds using the freezer. But only if he got off to a fast start and got his components chilling as fast as possible.

Which was why he laughed when Wicks looked at him in confusion and said, " You have time to make coffee today?"

"Really, no," Bitty said. "I'm going to use the hot coffee to melt the chocolate for my cake batter."

Never mind that he made enough to pour himself a cup. He had lots to do and a little extra caffeine wouldn't hurt. 

Bitty used the time while the coffee was brewing to measure the rest of his ingredients so he could get the two sponges in the oven within minutes of pouring the hot coffee over his chocolate and cocoa mixture. Then it was on to the salted caramel ganache and the whipped cream filling while the cake baked and then cooled. He saw Chowder throwing out a whole bowl of ganache. Lord, it must have really split if he couldn’t try to save it.

Bitty stacked his layers in a springform pan, put it back in the freezer and set to rewarming his ganache. He took a moment to look around, and saw that Wicks was having a rough go. Again. Bitty would have liked to help, but there was no time.

In the end, the whipped cream wasn’t quite set, but the comments were pretty positive.

Bitty was feeling good heading into the technical. Lunch had been fun, with bites of everyone’s cakes, and he was enjoying watching Chowder and Cait grow closer. He’d like to find someone who looked at him the way Chowder looked at Cait — or the way Cait looked at Chowder. Either way.

But when they lined up behind their benches for the technical, Bitty didn’t like the way Jack had his camera focused on him. It didn’t feel personal this time, but Bitty still didn’t think he’d like what was coming.

He didn’t like being sent out from the tent to stew longer. He supposed a fast challenge could be good. Less time for the chocolate to melt, whatever it was. But on the whole, probably not. It certainly wasn’t pastry.

When he was brought back in, he saw April and March working feverishly, while Chowder and Cait were staring at their ovens, willing something to happen.

Then Holster told him and Will that they would be making chocolate souffles. Crap. That was one thing he’d never tried. It just seemed too … ’70s, he guessed. And not something you could make for a hockey team. Maybe if he’d ever had a boyfriend to cook for.

The instructions weren’t very detailed, but he got the idea. The challenge was going to be multitasking to bring the chocolate creme pat and the meringue together in the souffle dish (fitted with a parchment collar, of course) in time to get in the oven. 

That was what did him in. His meringue would not fold cleanly into his creme pat, and it was probably the temperature, but there was no time to do anything about it.

“I should have paid more attention,” he said.

“This is not going to work. But I can’t do it again, so. Ugh.” 

His souffle had to get in the oven, so he slid it in and cursed himself for the time it took to make the parchment collar. It was the only thing he thought he might have done faster if he tried. 

The big white patches looked like melting snow on mud. When Rob and Alice tasted it, he turned away and bit his lip to keep from crying. Of course he came last in the technical. It was what he deserved. 

He was ready to go back to the hotel and reorder his priorities — maybe his planned showstopper was too much of a risk? — when Jack approached.

“Are you skating tonight?” Jack said. “If you want, I could give you a ride to the rink.”

“That’s nice,” Bitty said. “But I’m kind of tired. I think I’m just gonna turn in.”

“Might do you good to clear your head,” Jack said.

Like that had worked last week. “Or I could fall on my ass and not be able to bake tomorrow, and the way this day is going, which is more likely? This is the thing I was supposed to be good at, Jack.”

“Souffles?”

“Baking,” Bitty said. “All my life, people have been telling me all the things I can’t do, but no one ever said I couldn’t bake. Shouldn’t bake, sure, but not that I couldn’t. And I was so scared to put that to the test, because if it turned out I really couldn’t, and I’d just been fooling myself all along … “

He sniffled.

“But you’re baking with some of the best amateur bakers in the country,” Jack said. “Just being on the show … of course you can bake. And it’s already week six, and you’re still here. I think we’re a long way past the idea that any of you can’t bake.”

“That’s … unexpectedly kind of you,” Bittle said. “But I think I’m going to take a pass on embarrassing myself any further today.”

Realistically, there wasn’t anything he could do about his showstopper The ingredients and the equipment were already on-site, and he was as prepared as he could be to sculpt an eighteen-inch alligator out of Rice Krispie treats and moldable chocolate.

He was sure all the other centerpieces would be, well, chocolate-colored with white chocolate accents. That was what the challenge anticipated. But he had checked with Denice weeks ago, and she said moldable, dyeable chocolate did count. So a gator it was. Might as well go out with a splash if that was what was going to happen.

He worked more or less undisturbed for a while. Marty had gotten footage of hi building the puffed rice structure, but hadn’t said anything before moving on. Bitty found him a much less obtrusive presence than Jack had been.

But as soon as he started kneading his greyish green and yellow chocolates and laying them onto his sculpture form, Ransom and Tater were there, asking why he chose an alligator.

“People think of gators in Florida, but we have them in Georgia, too,” Bitty explained. “Once I was on a hunting trip with my daddy, and we were walking down an embankment with water on both sides, and this gator was laying across the whole thing, just sunning itself. We just had to stand there and wait for it to move along. Anyway, gators kind of remind me of home.”

He didn’t add that he went on only a handful of hunting trips before his father released him from the obligation of doing something he obviously didn’t enjoy. On the other hand, he’d made hundreds of polymer clay figures with his mother, who enjoyed crafting enough that she took commissions and made holiday decorations for friends and neighbors. Bitty had a literal hand in many of them, and working with modeling chocolate wasn’t much different.

When it got too warm, he put the whole thing in the fridge and worked on his caramel and chocolate nest and the white chocolate eggs it would contain.

When time was called and Bitty looked around, he saw his prediction borne out: There was a chocolate carousel, chocolate towers, a chocolate town. The most striking, in his opinion, were Cait’s giant mug of hot chocolate, and Will’s chocolate well.

But his risk paid off with the judges.

“This looks amazing,” Rob said. “I like the way you got the mottled color for the skin.”

They took a slice from the tail, and Alice commented on how beautifully the chocolate and puffed rice mixture held together.

“And it tastes good,” she pronounced.

After, when he had been named star baker and said goodbye to Wicks and made his comments to Marty, he went in search of Jack.

“I wanted to say thanks,” Bitty said. “For the pep talk. I know you don’t like me much, and to say that anyway … well, it was nice of you.”

* * *

Episode 7: Pie

Pie week. This what was Bitty had been waiting for, ever since he was added to the cast and given the shooting schedule. He’d been a little disappointed to see it come so late — what if he was sent home before he got his chance to shine? That had seemed more than possible after last week’s technical.

When Ms. Duan called him (Ms. Duan — called Bitty!) and asked if he’d be okay working in closer proximity to Jack, he couldn’t bring himself to object.

“Of course,” he said. “If that works best for y’all.”

“We could put Marty on you,” she said. “But I have to say the footage we got of you from Jack in the early weeks is really good. Sometimes he doesn’t understand how his intensity affects people, though.”

“Are you trying to say it’s not personal?”

Ms. Duan didn’t actually answer that. She just said, “Make sure to say something if it becomes a problem again.”

The first bake was a savoury pie to serve a family. That was one he could actually thank the Wellies for. The only savoury pies anyone made in Georgia were usually chicken pot pies, or maybe turkey pot pies if they had Thanksgiving leftovers. But the Canadians on his team had told him all about tourtiere when he was but a wee frog, and he’d been perfecting the recipe for the past two years. Last Christmas, he’d made six, one for each Canadian teammate to take home and one for the Haus.

Chowder, unfortunately, didn’t seem to be bubbling over with confidence, especially when Bitty mentioned how long he’d been making pies.

Bitty tried to reassure him.

“I never know what’s going to impress the judges, though,” he said. “You’ll do just fine, hon.”

Then the challenge was on, and Bitty was making his dough as fast as he could so that it would chill while he made the filling. He was wrapping the dough the first time Jack got to him, then focused on him dicing his onion.

Bitty noticed Jack coming back to him sooner than he would have expected, just after he added the spices to the filling.

“Is that going to be a tourtiere?” Jack asked.

Bitty started talking about the history and cultural significance of tourtieres to give Jack something usable instead of boring footage of him stirring potatoes into his filling.

Then Alice and Ransom appeared.

“I’d know that smell anywhere,” Ransom said. “How did you decide on a tourtiere?”

Bitty told his story again while he rolled out the crust.

In the end, even though several bakers had done well, he thought his tourtiere had done its job in impressing the judges. 

He wondered about the technical. Was it going to be massive banquet pie or something? Maybe not, since both the signature and showstopper were large bakes.

When Ransom announced they were doing mini pear pies, wrapping a pastry crust around whole poached pears, Bitty was intrigued. He’d never done anything like it, but he worked with strips of pastry dough to make lattices all the time. For this to work, he knew, the pears would have to be cool when the pastry went on. That meant they needed to start poaching immediately after finishing the dough.

Bitty got to work, focused on his own bench. It wasn’t until he had a moment while his pears were cooling that he saw what March had done, slicing her pears instead of poaching them whole. Oh, that was going to be a problem.

He was aware of Chowder watching him while he wrapped his pastry, and made sure to leave enough room for him to see.

Once he had his mini-pies in the oven, he turned around.

“Can I give you a hand?”

“Just hold those there,” she said. 

So Bitty held the pear sliced together while March wrapped dough strips around them. It was a valiant effort, he thought, but probably not enough.

He was right. She came last in the technical, and Bitty was first again, with compliments from Rob on the flavoring of his syrup and the construction of the crust. He hoped the other bakers wouldn’t be angry.

Chowder, at least, wasn’t.

“I would have been lost without you on this one,” he said.

Bitty thought about skating again, but Shitty had reminded him that he shouldn’t spend time with anyone on the show’s staff outside the actual filming day, and he didn’t want to get in Jack’s way. Besides, he wanted to practice the braided lattice for his showstopper.

The next morning, Jack apologized for making it too hard for him to skate, which was … nice, but weird. The rink here was more Jack’s place than Bitty’s. Anyway, he had a maple-apple pie to make.

Once again, Jack spent chunks of time on all of his bakers, giving them a chance to talk about what they were doing. That was something Bitty missed when Marty was shooting him, maybe because it reminded him of doing his vlog.

The filling came together in minutes, and rolling the bottom crust out was the work of moments. Then it was time to weave the elaborate top lattice that was designed to make this pie a showstopper.

So of course it was time for Alice and Ransom to check on him.

He tried not to sound like he wished they would leave when he said, “the only thing that’s worrying me about it is that it takes some time to do, and I don’t want the filling sitting in the shell and making it soggy while I do this. So I’m going to try to do it on here and transfer it over.”

“Good luck with that,” Atley said.

“And good choice on the maple,” Ransom added, and they moved on.

Bitty completed the lattice and was preparing to move it onto his pie when he saw Jack (of course) get into position.

Bitty took a deep breath and looked at Jack’s camera.

“My hope here is that this dough will be just sticky enough to cling to the plastic wrap long enough to get it flipped over, but not sticky enough to mess up the whole design. Wish me luck.”

Then he inverted the lattice onto the pie, trying to tug it gently into position.

“Close enough, I suppose,” Bitty said.

He was gratified but not surprised to be named star baker for the second week in a row. He tried to explain in the post-challenge interview.

“My goal all along was to get to pie week, because I know I’m good at pie,” he said. “But now I really want to keep going. I know some people didn’t think I could do this in the beginning and I didn’t know if I could, either. I still don’t, for that matter, but I think maybe I can. Only way to find out is to keep trying.”

* * *

Episode 8: Victorian Bitty felt fortunate that the first bake for Victorian week was also a pie, even if he didn’t have near as much experience with hot water pastry. Who ever heard of pastry that you had to knead? But the technique wasn’t hard to learn, and he hoped that it would hold his basketweave design in the mold.

MooMaw had given him some advice on preparing his venison filling, primarily counseling him to not let it dry out. He browned it with plenty of oil, and planned to use vegetables with a decent water content, too.

The meat was almost done when Jack approached to record him.

“I think browning the meat will maybe help the flavor stand out,” Bitty said. “I’m using venison, which is a little like beef, only more lean. More protein, too.”

Jack stopped his camera.

“That’s good,” he said. “You should eat more protein.”

He looked perfectly serious, but he had to be chirping. 

“You are aware you work for a baking show, right?” Bitty said.

Jack started recording again.

“Do you have a lot of experience cooking game?” he asked.

“Hardly any,” Bitty said. “But most of the men in my family hunt, so my mama and my MooMaw do. They gave me some ideas on how to season this and all, but I don’t think either one ever made a venison pie.”

After Jack moved on, Bitty got his crust going. He worked fast, and his experience with short pastry came in handy when he made the basketweave for case. 

Then he layered the filling in. It seemed a little overfull, even though he was almost certain he was using the same amounts he used the one time he practiced in the Haus. Maybe they cooked down more there when he was getting the filling ready? Then they’d probably cook down a bit in the oven, he reasoned.

Halfway through the bake, the top of his pie was domed in a way it should not be and a thermometer inserted through the steam hole indicated the center was not baking as it should.

He left the oven temperature up instead of reducing it halfway through, but it was hopeless.

Crap. There was no way this was going to work. Defeated by a pie, and the very rookie mistake of overfilling it. 

He wished he had practiced it more than once, but ground venison was selling for upwards of twelve dollars a pound, and he’d had to buy the pie mold, and it was finals week to boot. He just hadn’t had the time or money to spare. And to think it might cost him a place in the semi-final … well, he’d always have Pie Week.

The judges were sympathetic when they saw the over-browned crust.

“Oh, Eric, what happened?” Rob asked. 

“The middle wasn’t heating up,” Bitty said, “so I left the heat up. If I was at home and not worried about the time, I probably would have turned the oven down but left it longer.”

“I’m not sure that would have helped,” Rob said, cutting through the crust and sending shards of pastry across the bench. “The problem is too much filling. That’s only just cooked through.”

Alice took a bite. “It’s a shame, because that tastes quite nice.”

In the post-challenge interview he said, “I never thought I’d have so much trouble with a pie of all things. But it’s not really like a pie, is it? It’s really more of a casserole. With a pastry crust. Which I should be able to do.”

He sighed. “Teach me to get overconfident.”

At least it was only the signature. He still had time, he told himself. And he only had to do better than one other baker.

When he heard what the technical was, he groaned. Cake — and a fruitcake at that — rather than anything pastry-related. Then again, staying away from pastry for a bit might be a good idea. Now if only he could remember how a tennis court was supposed to look like.

At least he had some experience with fondant from making his cousin Melissa Sue’s wedding cake last summer. It had even been hot that day.

“I’d say the cake is the easy part,” Bitty said when Jack came around. “It’s the decorations that will be difficult to get right, especially since I’ve never seen what they’re supposed to look like. And we have to pretty much do them and put them together and then add them to the cake. But then, it’s always a mistake to not pay enough attention to the actual bake.”

With his cake safely in the oven, he made the almond paste and fondant. They were stacked and cut and he found himself at an impasse, once again right in front of Jack’s camera.

“I just have to remember what a tennis court actually looks like,” he said. “I’ve played maybe twice.”

He turned to peek at Cait’s, hoping — please God — that Jack didn’t see that, or if he did, that he wouldn’t say anything and throw Bitty off.

Then April asked how long the icing should be in the oven, and Bitty found himself lifting his piping bag from the net he was making as he turned to look at her. He tried to pick up where he left off, but the net looked wonky to him.

It turned out to be so wonky that it broke as he tried to put it on the cake. Dang. Double fault.

April came last, but Bitty was fourth. After the disaster of his game pie,he was going to have to do better.

He was thinking about his Charlotte Russe when he nearly bumped into Jack.

“I’ll stay back if you want to skate tonight,” Jack said.

“Nah,” Bitty said. “I didn’t even bring my skates this week. I’ll be good and stay at the hotel. Tomorrow’s going to be a long, long day.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jack said. “You did it last week, right?”

Bitty appreciated the positivity. He really did. He just wasn’t sure it was realistic.

“Jack, honey, I’m not sure come-from-behind is the best strategy here,” Bitty said.

Bitty knew that judges had chosen a Charlotte Russe not only because it looked impressive, but because it required so many different components and different skills, and because the successful bakers would do all that while coming up with interesting flavor combinations.

Maybe raspberry and mango was too simple. Cait had rosewater, April had champagne and pomegranate as well as raspberry. Chowder had spiced blackberry, raspberry and cardamom. Only Will’s was simpler, with strawberry bavorois and strawberry jelly.

But he did two kinds of bavarois, something he’d never made before he started learning it for this, and two kinds of jelly. Maybe he shouldn’t have added the second sponge, either, but he found it helped him keep the layers distinct. And, as the challenge progressed, he was pleased to see that everything set.

His Charlotte Russe had nothing on Will’s when it came to looks; Will actually baked a crown to top his. 

In the end, though, the judges criticized the placement of his ladyfingers of all things. Who knew that it mattered whether they were shoulder to shoulder instead of overlapping?

Well. Apparently everyone else.

April also had a tough time, with a section of her (properly placed) ladyfingers detaching from the side, exposing the unset jelly that was dripping down the inside of her Charlotte Russe. Bitty knew exactly how she felt.

Even so, he was surprised when the judges came back and announced that April would leave the tent. No way had he done well enough to move on.

“I thought it would be me,” he said to nobody. “It should be me.”

Ron must have heard him, because he put an arm around Bitty and said, “I don’t know what you’ve been paying attention to, son, but it was never going to be you this week. Maybe not your best week, but not bad. April’s a good baker, but as things got more complicated, she was just overmatched.”

Bitty wasn’t as surprised that Chowder pulled through as star baker. He remembered his manners and found Chowder surrounded by the bakers and hosts.

“I’m so happy for you,” he said. “You deserve this.”

* * *

Episode 9: Semifinal, Patisserie

Bitty wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this. 

Well, sure, he knew he had made it through eight weeks of baking with people who took it as seriously as he did, and up until eight weeks ago, he hadn’t known anyone who took it as seriously as he did. 

But why did that mean he would have to make a mousse cake, featuring something called a joconde sponge, that he had never heard of until three blessed weeks ago? Plus the orange chocolate mousse to fill it, and a clear orange jelly, whipped cream and orange peel spirals all in two hours.

Maybe he should have simplified?

Bitty was pleased to find that had one of the two front benches and that Jack was literally in his corner. Somehow, the sight of Jack — tall, handsome Jack, whose blue eyes seemed to see everything — had become a comforting presence, Lord help him. Bitty must have well and truly lost it. Did a Band-Aid change that much?

A Band-Aid, and the clear concern in his voice when Bitty fell, and a quiet pep talk when things weren’t going well, Bitty’s mind chipped in. 

It didn’t matter. Bitty couldn’t think about Jack when he had to focus on his joconde and jelly. Which really, why did he think he could do a jelly on top of everything else in two hours?

He saw Jack recording him as he finished assembling the cake and mousse and started talking.

“The really challenging thing is hoping it cools down in time,” Bitty said. “At home, I’d give this part on its own a couple of hours, but I can’t do that now. Into the freezer it goes.”

The jelly was indeed his downfall, as it was too thin when he spread it over the top.

“Lets just hope the judges don’t notice,” Bitty said to Jack’s camera. “At least it’s not dripping off the side.”

The judges noticed.

“It seems like you could have used a little more time for this to set,” Rob said.

“At this stage of the game, you need to manage your time and plan bakes that you can finish in the time allotted,” Alice said.

Bittle nodded again.

“I know,” he whispered. 

“However, the taste is really lovely,” she said.

None of other signatures was perfect, so Bitty figured the morning wasn’t a total loss. If he got through the technical without a disaster, he’d be able to win a place in the final if he did well tomorrow. And this was patisserie week. Maybe it would be something to his advantage — tartlets or mille feuille. Then again, tomorrow was all about pastry, so who knew what the judges had planned for this afternoon?

When he found out, he was left wondering who set a challenge for iced finger buns. With the whole world of patisserie, they were back to yeasted dough and icing? 

It wasn’t terrible, he thought as he kneaded his sticky dough, making frequent use of the scraper. Some technicals were about who could get something close to the requested dish done at all; this was about who could do it perfectly. Baking was one area where Bitty had never struggled to pay attention to details, so it should be good for him.

Even if it wasn’t the most fun thing to bake.

“This is really just a sweet bread,” Bitty told Holster when he stopped at his bench, Tater in tow. “I was hoping for some actual pastry.”

“Not difficult enough for you?” Holster said. “Great buns are easy for you hockey players to achieve?”

“Haha,” Bitty said, flashing back to last year’s Better Bitty Booty Bureau and its thousands of squats before forcing his mind back to the project in front of him. “Believe me, getting the buns right is plenty difficult. It’s just not what I’m good at.”

Holster raised a brow, and Bitty wondered what horrible pun was coming.

“I bet lots of guys on your team want a taste of your buns,” he said.

Bitty’s first thought was, “If only.” His second thought was that his mama — and Coach! — was going to watch this.

“Please don’t use that part,” he said, hoping he didn’t look as rattled as he felt. Joking about sexuality was fine, and Bitty knew that Holster didn’t mean anything derogatory, but he’d been dodging rumors since before he knew what “gay” meant.

Holster beckoned for Shitty, who was watching from the side of the tent.

“Tater, dude, ix-nay with the amera-cay,” Holster said. “I think I made Eric uncomfortable, and he wants us to edit out part of our conversation.”

“What’s the problem, brah?” Shitty asked as Tater politely stepped away.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Bitty said. “But something Holster said could imply I’m gay.”

“And that’s a problem?” Shitty said. “You want girls to know you’re available?”

“No, I am gay,” Bitty confirmed. He was proud that his voice didn’t shake; this wasn’t his first time coming out, after all. “I just don’t want it on TV.”

“We’ve had plenty of gay bakers before,” Shitty said.

“I know,” Bitty said. “But my parents don’t know I’m gay, and I’d like for this to not be the way they find out.”

Shitty nodded. “Okay. That falls into the category of totally your business and nothing to do with the show. Holster, you okay with doing some witty banter without the homoerotic undertone?”

“Sure thing,” Holster said.

The noise picked back up as all the other bakers went back to their own buns, and Bitty wished that he hadn’t distracted them. Jack was over by CHowder, trying to look like he hadn’t been listening, too. 

Bitty couldn’t think about that now. He had to remember where he was.

Tater came back, and Holster tried again.

“So, I hear you play hockey,” Holster said. “Bet you’re an expert in iced buns.”

Bitty gave him a strained smile and just kept working.

He caught Jack looking at him a few minutes later. He didn’t think Jack was one of those straight guys who was threatened by even being in close proximity to a gay man — as Shitty said, there had been plenty of gay contestants before — but something seemed to be on his mind.

Bitty decided to speak up.

“I hope that conversation didn’t make you think less of me,” he said.

“No, of course not,” Jack said. “Why would you think —”

Then Marty asked Jack for something, and the moment was over. 

The rest of the challenge went well, and Bitty thought, and he might be able to actually get top marks in the technical. 

Bitty was arranging his buns on the platter, trying to show them all to their best advantage, when he felt rather than saw someone loom up behind him. He jumped and collided with a brick wall, the bun in his hand tumbling to the floor.

The icing stuck to the carpet, the cream filling splattered, and there were flecks of red jam all over the surface.

“Oh, fu — fudge!” Bitty said, turning to find Jack. “Why’d you come up behind me like that?”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

“But you did!”

Holster and Ransom both arrived to participate in the post mortem.

“Yeah, Jack, why’d you startle him?” Holster said.

“You should warn a baker before you try to shoot over their shoulder,” Ransom said.

Jack grimaced and said, “I really didn’t mean for that to happen, and I am sorry.” 

Bitty took a deep breath and blew it out. The thought that Jack was trying to make him make a mistake, trying to create drama for the show, crossed his mind, but he didn’t really believe that. And he couldn’t go back and make it not happen, so he’d just have to move on.

“No matter,” he said, picking up the bun to see how it could be salvaged. “I can add another layer of icing and redo the filling, but it’s never going to look like the others.”

“It’ll be okay,” Holster said. “We’ll tell Rob and Alice that it was damaged by circumstances beyond your control.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate,” Bitty said. “Sure, Jack loomed, but I jumped and dropped it. And it’s the technical, so I won’t have a chance to say anything until they’ve judged them anyway.”

Bitty ended up third out of four. He might not have been first without the dropped bun, because Will’s really were perfect, but he was pretty sure he at least would have been in second. Oh well. That would just make tomorrow’s laminated pastry showstopper that much more important.

At least it was something he knew how to make.

That’s what Bitty tried to himself as he pounded his butter into a rectangle and folded his pastry over it before putting in the freezer. It was just puff pastry, really, formed into three different shapes, with three different toppings and fillings.

In four and a half hours. Right. And Jack kept looking at him. Only it didn’t feel like he was being judged anymore. It felt more like Jack wanted to say something. But that was silly, because if Jack had something to say, he could just say it. Unless it was something he didn’t want everyone to hear … and he’d better stop thinking about Jack and concentrate on his pastry if he ever wanted to see Jack after today.

“It’s really difficult to make it this fast,” Bitty said. “Normally, I’d leave it in the fridge an hour between turns. Since we don’t have that kind of time, I think we’re all using the freezers today.”

Bitty soon fell into rhythm between the rolling, folding and freezing and preparing his fillings. He was doing apple, raisin and cinnamon plaits; apple, macadamia nut and white chocolate pinwheels; and almond croissants.

“I do like the flavors and textures I get with nuts in pastry, and that seemed like an opportunity, with no else using them for this challenge,” he said while he was working on his almond paste one of the times Jack stopped at his bench.

He was busy, but it looked like his competitors were more frazzled. Still, when time was called, all of them had three sets of appetizing pastries set on serving dishes.

The judges were positive when they sampled Bitty’s efforts, especially about the pinwheels.

“I wasn’t sure how you were going to get all those flavors in there,” Rob said. “But they actually work together.”

It wasn’t enough for star baker — Cait, who had three solid efforts over the two days, got that. Chowder was eliminated, but he seemed so happy for Cait that it didn’t matter to him.

Bitty got what he really wanted, too: a place in the final and a shot at winning the whole season.

If that meant one more weekend looking at Jack’s chiseled cheekbones and other … assets, so much the better.

He found Jack before heading back to the hotel.

“Thanks for what you said before,” he said. “It helped. I think if we’d met under different circumstances, you and I could have even been friends.”

He thought he saw Jack’s face fall as he walked away, though he had no idea why.

* * *

Episode 10: The Final

Bread. Of course they were starting with bread. Better than ending with bread. Probably. 

He had spelt boules, which were simple enough, as long as they didn’t spread and become flat. The mushroom ciabatta and orange plaited brioche both should have way longer resting times, but he was pretty sure he could turn out an acceptable result as long as he didn’t lose track of things.

He said as much to Jack as he got his mixers going, then braced himself for his first visit from Tater, Ransom and Rob.

Rob, of course, went right for the obvious problem, especially after his jelly hadn’t set in the Charlotte Russe.

“So why, in a challenge where you have limited time, did you choose ciabatta and brioche, which traditionally need longer proving times?” Rob asked. 

“I’m seriously wondering about that myself now,” Bittle said. “I did practice and get it done within the time at home, so I think I can, but maybe I should have chosen something else.”

He was using the proving drawer for all three, and he had separate timers going on top of each bowl. Of course, if one of them rose faster than he expected (yes, he was looking directly at the spelt), he would have to adjust on the fly.

Jack got a shot of the three bowls with their timers when Bitty checked them. Bitty closed the drawer and said, “This is going to get really complicated. There are three doughs that all have to prove twice, for different amounts of time, and bake for different times. I’m afraid I’m going to forget something and leave it in the drawer or in the oven too long.”

Then he pulled his handwritten battle plan towards him to check on his next steps.

He needed the filling for his ciabatta, and the glaze for his brioche, so he did those. Then it was time to form the boules and put them aside for a second rise, then plait the brioche dough, then fill the ciabatta. The boules went in first, followed by the brioche. The ciabatta had the quickest bake.

Bitty was surprised that Will didn’t get better comments on his breads; his spelt and rye loaves were underproved and underbaked, the judges said, and his other two were good, but not stunning.

Bitty, judged second, got far better reviews for his spelt, and good comments on the others — Alice liked his ciabatta, and Rob said he was pleasantly surprised by the flavor of his brioche. Had he expected it to be bad?

Cait outshone them both, but Bitty was pretty pleased, actually, with how he’d done. Bread wasn’t his strength, and he’d gotten through it without hurting his chances.

“I got through the breads, which was what I wanted to do,” he told Jack’s camera. “I feel like I can take a deep breath now. I still have a chance with this thing. I mean, so do Will and Cait, obviously, but I’m not out of it.”

When he saw the icing patterns for the ginger biscuits in the technical, he almost wished he was out of it. 

He knew the decorations would be devilishly hard as soon as he heard what the challenge was.

“Two and a half hours for ginger biscuits?” he said, skimming the recipe. Then he saw the patterns. “All about the bake, my foot. This is all about the icing. At least time-wise.”

Of course the biscuits had to be perfect, but that would take less than an hour. It would take almost as long to mix the different consistencies of royal icing and tint them to the proper colors, let alone apply them anything like neatly.

It wasn’t really an artistic challenge, Bitty mused as he worked. More artisanal, as they weren’t tasked with coming up with a design, just copying the two (complicated and detailed) designs that had been set before them.

No one had time to look at anyone else, and with half an hour left, Bitty was forgoing detail for speed.

“One thing my college career has taught me,” he told Jack, “is that done is often better than perfect. So these won’t be perfect, but they will be done.”

Then he looked up and said, “Of course, I’m an American studies major. If I was doing computer science like Will did, I might have a different opinion.”

Will did finish, unlike Cait, and while his biscuits weren’t perfect, they were better than Bitty’s.

Maybe, if Cait won the signature and Will won the technical, the stars were aligning for him to win the showstopper? Or maybe not. At this point, there wasn’t much more Bitty could do. He was glad he didn’t have a kitchen at the hotel so he wouldn’t be tempted to practice tonight.

“Who knows what’s going to happen? Not me, that’s for sure,” he told Jack’s camera. “Cait and Will are both so talented — I’ve learned a lot from both of them. I almost can’t imagine either of them losing. But I’m still going to try to win.”

Jack put the camera down and said, “I think they’ve learned a lot from you, too. I know I have.”

Like what? Bitty never got the impression Jack had any real interest in the baking.

“Jack, that’s kind of you,” Bitty said. “But you’ve seen dozens and dozens of bakers come through here. I’d think you already knew as much as you wanted to about baking.”

“Not about baking,” Jack said. “About taking a chance.”

Was Jack talking about … no. He couldn’t be. But a boy could dream, right?

“Really?” he breathed.

“Yes,” Jack said. “I think I’m going to go back to school once this season wraps.”

“Oh,” Bitty said. He couldn’t be disappointed. Jack was making major life changes, and he said it was because of Bitty. He smiled. “I’m sure you’ll do real well with whatever you want to do, Jack, though I’m not sure how I inspired you to get more education, seeing as I’m baking my way through mine. Did I ever tell you about the time I bribed my way into a class with a pie? Never mind. You don’t want to know about that. I’ve enjoyed working with you.”

“Me too,” Jack said. “Enjoyed working with you, I mean. My offer stands — if you want to skate tonight, take your mind off tomorrow, I won’t go to the rink.”

Bitty knew if he did skate, it wouldn’t be to take his mind off tomorrow’s entremet. It would be to avoid thoughts of this beautiful man, who was so different from what Bitty originally thought. 

“Maybe,” Bitty said. “When I want to procrastinate, I usually bake, but that’s not really an option here. I don’t think I can, though. I didn’t bring my skates, and the rental counter won’t be open.”

“Tell me your size,” Jack said. “I know the manager. I can get her to leave a pair out.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure,” he said. “I can skate anytime.”

“I can too, sort of, when I’m at school,” Bitty said. “Like, any time the ice isn’t scheduled. So you’d think I could give it up for two days.”

Jack shrugged. “We all have our ways of coping.”

Right.

“Tell you what,” Bitty said. “If I go — and I’m pretty sure I have to get the okay from Ms. Duan — I’ll be done by 8:30 or so. Nine at the latest. If you want to skate later.”

He did get permission, and Ms. Duan didn’t seem surprised that he asked, so Jack had probably already mentioned their plan. The skates sitting on the counter were rentals, but they looked freshly sharpened and in decent shape. Still, no jumps tonight.

He started a Beyonce playlist and circled the rink, speeding up, slowing down, pulling into spins. He tried not to think, just let his muscles do what they were supposed to do and breathe in the chemical smell of the ice.

The one thought that came back over and over was that this would be more fun if Jack was there.

At exactly 8:30, he left the ice. He took off his skates, wiped the moisture from the blades and tied the laces together. He left them with a thank-you note on the counter and was ordering a ride by 8:45, out in plenty of time for Jack to skate at nine if he wanted.

When he entered the tent the next morning, he was feeling more relaxed. Maybe it was the time he spent skating the night before. Maybe it was knowing that whatever happened, his time on the bake-off would end after today. 

He’d gone over the notes and instructions he’d written for his entremet, including ideas for what to jettison if time became an issue, but he thought that finally, after ten weeks, he had a good idea of how much he could cram into five hours.

He needed his newfound confidence when he was the first baker visited by Rob and Alice, along with Ransom and Tater recording.

“I’m making mine an Ode to the Honeybee,” Bitty said. “I’ve always loved honey and the way the flavors can be so different.”

His entremet would include an orange blossom sponge, blackberry jelly, hazelnut feuilletine, lemon curd and lavender mousse, covered with a white chocolate marbled mirror glaze and decorated with a chocolate honey bee and flower.

Alice looked less than enthusiastic.

“Are you sure all those flavors will go together? Lemon and lavender? It sounds like it might be furniture polish,” she said.

Bitty stiffened his spine.

“I think the lavender works pretty well, actually,” he said

“Bees like all those things,” Rob said in a placating sort of way. “Maybe we will too.”

“Shall I take them away?” Ransom asked.

“Please,” Bitty said.

He had too much to do to spend time discussing it. That didn’t stop him listening as Will and Cait explained their entremets. He knew what they were doing — they’d talked about it at length at the hotel yesterday — but he still couldn’t believe Will planned two separate desserts. It seemed like he might be overreaching, and he was good enough that he didn’t need to do that to impress the judges.

Jack caught Bitty looking when Will was talking, and Bitty just shook his head and went back to work. Honestly, he just wanted to see how Rob and Alice would react.

Once all the layers were stacked and in the freezer, Bitty used the chilling timee to make his decorations. He was especially proud of his idea of using bubble wrap to make a honeycomb for his friendly bee.

Marty was watching Will as he tested the firmness of his two entremets, but Jack looked less busy.

“Jack,” he said, brandishing the bubble wrap. “You might want this part.”

“You realize you don’t have to ship this anywhere, right?” Jack said.

“I know,” Bitty said, giving a little exasperated sigh and an eye roll. “But I know y’all like to show people things they could maybe do at home. I’m going to use this as a kind of mold to make my honeycomb.”

Jack recorded as Bitty pressed the the warm moldable chocolate, colored bright yellow this time, over the bubble wrap.

“It’s supposed to look like a piece of honeycomb so the edges don’t really matter,” Bitty said to the camera. “I mean, Will would probably have made his own mold with perfect hexagons, but I think this’ll get the idea across.”

As time ticked down, Bitty made and poured his marbled mirror glaze. He glanced at Will, who once again had to do two separate glazes, and at Cait, who was using a pure white mirror glaze that would show every imperfection. Yeah, this had been a good choice. Then to fit the chocolate collar around it …

“Oh, no!”

He’d clumsily knocked the chocolate into the side of the mold, cracking it from to bottom. 

He looked up to see Marty’s camera watching him.

“I’m just going to have to try to bring it as close as I can,” Bitty said. “There’s no time to do it again, so this is going to have to be it. I guess I could bring it up with the crack in the back, but you know they’re going to see it anyway..”

“Bits, you need an extra hand?” Cait asked.

“Aw, sugar, you have enough of your own work to do,” Bitty said.

“I have a minute,” Cait said.

“Then yes, please,” Bitty said, relieved. “Can you hold that right there?”

He pressed the chocolate lightly into the glaze. The crack was still there — there was no getting around it — but it wasn’t quite so obvious now.

“Thank you so much,” Bitty said.

Cait went back to her bench and started adding her molded figures, and Bitty placed his bee and honeycomb on top. Both of them turned to watch Will, placing the last of his decorations with toothpicks so as not to mar the finish.

Unfortunately for Will, the judges were only impressed with one of the two finishes. They also thought Cait’s looked too minimalist, making Bitty’s sunny yellow confection look good by comparison.

They noticed the crack in the collar, but didn’t make much of it. It could have gone so, so much worse. 

Then it was over. Bitty and Cait and Will were herded to the other end of the tent while their entremets got their glamour shots. Once that was done, the bakers were instructed to pick up their dessert and carry it outside to their families and friends, when they had only the most general idea of where each group would be.

They were ringed by the cameras, shot from the front as they carried their work triumphantly, dirty aprons still round their necks. 

Despite the crowd, it didn’t take Bitty long to find the Samwell Men’s Hockey team. They were big, there were a lot of them, and they were noisily chanting, “Bit-ty! Bit-ty! Bit-ty!

Bitty grinned at them, but headed straight for his mother, passing the entremet platter to Coach so he could embrace her.

“I’m so proud of you, Dicky,” Mama murmured in his ear. “You did so well. But I knew you would.”

He let his mother go, gave Coach a quick side hug, long enough for Coach to say, “You did good, Junior.”

Then Mama was cooing over the entremet while he moved down the line of hockey players, accepting claps on the back and high fives.

“Way to go, Cap,” Whiskey said, offering a fist to bump.

Chowder came over, Nursey in tow, and Bitty greeted them as well.

It seemed less than no time before Rob and Alice were making their way across the lawn, holding three bouquets of flowers and the engraved cake plate.

Bitty, Will and Cait assembled in front of them, their friends and families surrounding them.

“We have been so impressed with all three of you,” Alice said “It was not an easy decision, but it was clear in the end.”

“I have the honor of announcing the winner,” Holster said. “While it would probably be better to give this baker a pie plate —”

With that, the audience erupted into cheers. Bitty wasn’t sure he even heard his name, but they handed him the cake plate with his flowers, so he must have won.

He couldn’t help but smile as he cut the entremet and distributed the slices to his guests. He couldn’t help but tear up as they complimented him because the whole experience was over.

He saved a slice for Jack, who had somehow become one of the people he would miss most. He didn’t see him anywhere, but it didn’t help that Mama was hanging on his arm, begging for introductions to Rob and Alice.

Bitty was with Mama and the judges when he saw Jack by the staff shuttle.

“Mama, there’s one more person I need to say good-bye to,” Bitty said. “I’ll be right back.”

He had to hurry to catch Jack.

“I saved this for you,” Bitty said, holding up the plate with the slice of his entremet. “I usually bake a whole pie as a thank you — and that’s coming! — but this was the best I could do for today. So thanks for the skating, and the pep talks and such.”

“It’s nothing I wouldn’t do for anyone on the show, Bittle,” Jack said.

“I know,” Bitty said. “Because underneath that icy exterior, you’re really a kind and sweet person.”

Bitty pushed the the plate into his hands and turned to walk away.

“Bittle, wait,” Jack said. “I quit the show.”

Bitty stopped.

“Okay,” Bitty said. “To do what?”

“Go back to university,’ Jack said. “Finish my degree.”

“Good for you,” Bitty said. “You’ll be great.”

But Bitty would still never see him again.

He started to leave once more, but Jack stopped him 

“Bittle … Bitty. Why are you upset?”

“No reason,” Bitty said. When he looked up at Jack, he was so close, his head bending towards Bitty, an expression of concern on his face. “Just an emotional reaction. To everything. You know.”

They just stood like that.

“Bittle,” Jack said. “Bitty.”

Then Jack was kissing him, and Bitty was kissing Jack. He pulled Jack closer, feeling his warmth, feeling the firmness of his chest and back.

When they separated, Jack said. “Sorry. I probably should have asked first. I guess this taking chances thing got the better of me.”

“Asking would have been fine,” Bitty said, now smiling and not — definitely not — crying. “But this was good too. You really want —”

“You,” Jack said. “Now that I don’t work for the show, I want to take you out on dates and get to know you when you’re not under pressure to produce perfection on camera. I know I kind of was an ass at the beginning, but I really like you, and I hope you’ll give me a chance.”

“And here I was thinking I’d fallen for a straight boy,” Bitty said, shaking his head. “But my shuttle’s leaving, Jack. I have to go.”

“I’ll text you,” Jack said as Bitty walked away.

Before Bitty reached the lawn, his phone buzzed.

_Hi. I’m going backwards, but want to get dinner with me? Soon?_

Bitty smiled and typed, _Of course. And don’t let that entremet go to waste!_


End file.
